


Streaming Saturday

by DonKoogrr



Category: Naruto
Genre: Adult Entertainment, Alternate Universe - Porn, M/M, Madara is discovering a kink, Porn Watching, Tobirama is a good boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-21 08:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17638949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonKoogrr/pseuds/DonKoogrr
Summary: Madara is a grown ass man who hasneeds; there is nothing wrong with watching the amateurs strut their stuff on his favorite website's first Saturday of the month event.And then a familiar face shows up and everything goes wrong even if it feels so very right.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Tobirama's birthday!
> 
> It got weirdly angsty though? Not sure how that happened. Damn Uchihas keep messing around with perfectly good porn plots.
> 
> (Edit: I got a thing? I'm quiet on it usually, but it's there. https://discord.gg/qwPzVtr )

* * *

Madara nudges the door shut behind him with his foot as his free hand scrambles to find the light switch, his attention and other hand dominated by the argument he and Izuna are holding over the phone. His hand is _freezing_ thanks to the February weather and the lack of glove that necessitates the ability to respond to his beloved little brother’s idiocy, and the heat from his apartment is a welcome chance for him to set the device down long enough to discard his winter apparel. 

The phone buzzes again to let him know that Izuna is refusing to give up on his latest tirade. Madara eyes it balefully before hanging up his heavy coat and resigning himself to read the message.

[Izuna: Look, youve got a problem okay? You ditched a party for porn. to PAY for PORN. like the nerd you are. Who even does that? I know you know how to google. It’s the freest thing on the internet. Or use bing, it’s best for porn. Or dont because ou left a BIRTHDAY PARTY and you have a problem, okay?]

[Izuna: aRe you there? I can see you read my text, asshole. Look, you do your thing tonight, but I’m going to talk to Musuko about this. It cant be healthy.]

[Madara: Don’t get any of our brothers involved in this, you little shit. You’re making a big deal out of nothing - the party was over when the birthday boy left and I am a grown ass man who can afford to pay people for their work.]

[Izuna: lol work. Porn isn’t work. youre being taken advantage of, youre gonna catch every computer virus evar and then you’ll be broke and sad. you need to get a real person an a real relationship. Youre gonna get phished and some guy in suna is gonna steall your credit card info.]

Groaning, he plugs his phone into its charger and sets it to silence, unwilling to entertain Izuna when he is at his worst. Madara loves his brother, truly, but the man has very different ideas about how the world works. There is no point explaining that the site he uses is both discrete and legitimate - Izuna will always think of him as that idiot teenager he once was who had been forced to explain to their parents why the family computer was infested with malware, spyware, and intrusive pop-ups advertising the people in his area willing to fuck.

It had not been the best way to come out as pansexual to his parents. They were lovely people, but more conservative than himself. Pornagraphy was seen as something disgusting, something desperate or immoral people did and watching it was frowned upon.

Huffing to himself, Madara shucks off his pants and retrieves his leisure laptop, setting it on the coffee table while he seats himself on the couch. It boots up quickly and a few clicks lead him to his goal.

 _Icha Icha Pleasure_ might sound like a ridiculous adult site filled with low-quality ripped clips and revenge porn, but in reality it is so much more than that. It takes the idea of Adult Entertainment and runs with it, offering not only professionally made videos but episodic serials and even high-budget movies. The adult stars play characters more often than themselves and the pay they receive is the best in the industry.

Once there had been a Sexpo going on in the same city where Madara had been giving a lecture and he had slipped away from his itinerary to check it out. What he had found there...was not what he had grown up believing. While there were several booths that fit the negative stereotypes, the IIP had employed vibrant people, confident in themselves and their work, happily going about their jobs with the same determination as anyone else. 

He had become a member the moment he’d returned to his hotel room and had never looked back.

The page loads and he runs his eyes over his options. Today is the first Saturday of the month, when the site hosts amataur streamers who have been vetted by the company’s strict rules. Each one is contracted and if they prove to be popular enough they may be offered a more regular position. An odd-dozen individuals of varying age, races, and genders have been hosting their camshows all day and Madara has been _waiting_ for the chance to see the potential new talent.

He grouches mentally at his best friend, whose insistence on Madara making an appearance at Tobirama’s birthday party had thrown his original evening plans off kilter. He isn’t even friends with the retinicent young man, as Hashirama forever seems to lament. 

The party had been nice enough, but the birthday boy himself had been supremely uncomfortable for the duration of it, often checking his watch and slipping away after the first hour, having opened the perfunctory gifts and let the majority of the guests drink enough to miss his exit. Madara had felt bad enough for the guy that he hadn’t called him on it, only joined him in sneaking out of Hashirama’s house.

It didn’t exactly go unnoticed that most of the guests had been Hashirama’s friends, because the ever studious marine biologist didn’t seem to have any of his own. Or if he did, he wasn’t sharing.

A webcam focused on a seemingly empty room alongside a brief description of the streamer’s typical show catches his attention and he clicks on it, the site recognising him and logging him in as [MadMoonMan] automatically. The chat has a few of the usual lowlifes in it complaining about the streamer’s late start, but apparently this [GoodBoi] had enough of a fanbase already to keep his followers waiting patiently for him to appear. They appear to be chatting easily with one another, excited for their ‘Tobi’.

The name gives Madara pause, but only barely. Only because of the circumstances of the night. It’s only curiosity that keeps him there, watching an empty couch in a neatly appointed room, the lighting set up in a manner that speaks of some experience with showmanship.

And then [GoodBoi] himself steps into frame, face flushed from the cold and shirt being tossed away as he seats himself with casual grace, slender fingers already unbuttoning his fly.

Madara’s jaw drops as Tobirama’s voice rumbles through his speakers, low and enticing in a way he’s never heard before. This...what even is this?! Tobirama is Hashirama’s stuffy little brother, the awkward genius working on his doctorate, not...not this lithely muscled young man who is smirking into a webcam and apologising for the delay.

“It’s my birthday today, you see. It took some time for me to escape the ‘surprise’ party and get ready for you all...though, considering how ready I already am…” There should be no wicked look of mischief in those familiar red eyes and Madara should definitely not be watching the way Tobirama’s tongue licks at his lower lip as he leans forward slightly, a soft groan escaping him. “Last week FoxyGal2 was the highest tipper of the night and her prize was a task...it’s been an interesting day, pretending that there isn’t a vibrator up my ass. I’m a good boy, though. I didn’t touch myself at all, even though I wanted to _so_ much. I’ve been waiting for you guys to let me come…”

Madara’s throat is dry and he didn’t think his eyes could get any wider as Tobirama...as GoodBoi squirms on the couch, kicking off his pants and leaning back, revealing his lack of underwear. Powerful-looking legs spread to show the truth of his words, a thin cord snaking from his ass to the small controller taped to the inner side of his thigh.

A small chime distracts Madara and he realizes that he is drooling. Wiping his mouth hastily, he glances at his own traitorous crotch and the erection swiftly growing there. “Fuck. That’s not any sort of right. Stop that.” Ignoring the ridiculousness of talking to his own dick about appropriate interests, he looks to the chat to see that...GoodBoi...has already received quite a few tips as well as his first paid instruction.

[RoughDaddy has donated $50!]

[GoodBoi, let’s see u push ur finger in there Wish I could finger u open and press that vib right against your gspot make you cum until u beg for mercy]

Madara bangs his shins against the coffee table as he lurches to his feet. Swearing at the pain, at Tobirama, at the sheer lust flooding through his system, he paces for a few minutes before pulling off his boxers. He doesn’t return to the couch, not yet. He can barely stand to _listen_ as his best friend’s little brother returns the filthy flirting, teasing the audience with a confidence Madara can barely recall having seen before.

The thought of Tobirama’s relation to Hashirama does _nothing_ to stop Madara’s sudden interest - if anything, it makes things _worse_ and Madara has never felt so betrayed by his own hormones since puberty and That One Time with Mito. This...this was a lot like that. Not that he and Mito had done anything when she and Hashirama had been dating, but...they had done some kissing and heavy petting during the few breakups the couple had had.

Madara had felt like a monster, afterward, but it had also been so damn good to sneak around for the illicit and short-lived romance.

He glares down again at his cock. Developing such an interest in Hashirama’s _brother_ (a beat of desire at the thought makes his erection twitch and he despairs) would be a horrible thing for him to do to his best friend. How could he look the other man in the eye ever again, knowing that he had fantasized about fucking Tobirama until he begs for mercy?

There’s a horribly tempting noise from the computer, a breathy moan as the man in question reads off an order to play with his tits, followed by one telling him to choke himself. Madara reaches out to shut the laptop before he can get drawn in, but Tobirama responds with such an earnest “Yes Sir, can I use a toy? Can I choke on a toy and imagine it’s your dick down my throat?” that he pulls back as if burned.

 _Fuck_. 

He’s going to Hell. He is absolutely going to Hell for this.

Madara takes a moment to breath before he returns to his seat to watch the man he had grown up alongside swallow around a synthetic penis, looking entirely too pleased to be choking and drooling alone in his apartment, being watched by - he checks the chat - nearly five hundred people. 

He gives in and wraps his hand around his cock, not wanting to bother with lube when the tug and pull of his skin will be his own punishment for doing this. Madara has never felt so guilty watching another person’s self-pleasure before. Neither has he ever been so hard.

If he had discovered this kink in any other way, his life would be so much less complicated.

The brief look at the chat had also let him know that the show’s allotted time was nearly over, his mental war with himself having taken up the most of the hour. By the looks of things, Tobirama...GoodBoi...has his timing down well and will be reaching his own end shortly. Madara can’t help but be impressed - he’s always preferred seeing the climax, the shaking muscles and twitching limbs that denote a genuine orgasm, the mess that is left behind.

His hand shakes as he reaches out to type into the donation field.

“Mm...I’m so close, I’m so fucking close...Fuck, I’m so full…” There is a slim dildo pressed in alongside the vibrator’s wire and Madara wonders just how full Tobirama would feel if he ever had a real cock inside of him. “Let’s say...Ah, let’s say...the highest tipper this week. I’ll come with your screenname on my lips, is that okay? Will you let me come like that, please? Five minutes, I think I can last that much longer. You’ve all been so good to me tonight, I’m gonna come so much...”

There’s a flurry of donations and tips, the lead donator’s name at the top of the page flipping through a few monikers before settling on [Ginau] with a message of filthy encouragement from the apparent victors.

The _apparent_ victors.

The lead position changes to his screenname a few seconds after he hits the donation button and sends $7,000 flying out of his bank account.

“Oh fuck, oh _wow_...” Tobirama shivers faintly as he sees the amount pop up. “Fuck, are you sure? If that was...an accident, I can fix that…”

[MadMoonMan: no accident. want to see you. Heear you scream my name when you cum. you look so fucking good like that, holding out and dessperate]

"Haa...'MadMoonMan'? That's a mouthful..." Tobirama licks his lips, a sultry smile playing across his face, as if his cheeks weren't flushed with desire and his hand wasn't teasing along the length of his own cock. He’s recovered quickly from the refreshingly honest surprise of the donation. "But for that price...Mind if I shorten it to 'Mads'? Better hurry to let me know, I'm so close...let me come for you?" The green bracelet on his wrist shines almost mockingly as it finally catches Madara’s eyes.

His gift to Tobirama, not even real jade, a cheap impulse buy from the local gas station on his way to that damned party Hashirama insisted on throwing for his uptight little brother. Not that he looks anything like the stern young man working on his doctorate right now, not with the plastic beads of the offending accessory rubbing against his erection at the behest of another viewer's tip.

Madara's fingers shake as he types out his reply with the hand not wrapped traitorously around his own cock, ignoring his usual need to pay attention to grammar and spelling 

[MadMoonMan: MAds is fne. touch yourself. get that bracelet dirty covered in cumm]

Tobirama grins slyly at him, at the webcamera, then closes his pretty red eyes and lets his head tilt back, luxurious and decadent and so terribly bad for Madara’s health.  


“Fuck, alright, I can...Mads, fuck, you’ve been so good tonight, Mads, let me come? I want you to watch me like this, f-fucked and dirty, your good boy, all yours. Wish you were here right now, wish this was your hand on my cock, your dick stretching me out. Wanna feel you using me like you own me, please…!”

Madara breathes harshly, bending his head over as his hand works his erection frantically, his own ends tantalizingly close as Tobirama winds them both up, filthy, dark desires spilling from his lips until his hips buck upwards and he cries out as promised. Madara curses at the mangled form of his name being used so sweetly and his own guilty orgasm has him gasping and mumbling praise to his empty apartment.

Looking at the screen shows Tobirama’s trembling hand bringing his ejaculate to his mouth, his tongue lapping at the dripping seed as he struggles to catch his breath. “Ah, fuck...there’s so much...thank you. Thank you all for letting me come for you…” It doesn’t take long for a semblance of professionalism to reassert himself and he gives the audience a shaky smile. “Hah...thank you all for watching me, and thank you especially to all those who gave so generously tonight. Mads...I hope you visit me again, even if you don’t donate again. That was a lot...I want to make sure you get your money’s worth.”

[MadMoonMan: I’d love to visit again. You’re beautiful.]

The words seemed ridiculous the moment after Madara hits enter, but Tobirama seems pleased with the compliment. Sitting back on the couch and wiping his hand on his discarded underwear, Madara only halfway pays attention to Tobirama winding down the stream and giving out the site he uses for his usual shows. The dazed Uchiha hardly even notices when the screen goes dark as the stream ends.

He lies back and stares at the ceiling for a long while, letting himself come down from his orgasm, then turns his head to look at his cell phone.

Izuna is more right than he can ever be allowed to know; Madara _does_ have a problem, just not the one he had anticipated.


	2. [GoodBoiTobi]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, on the other side of the camera lens...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! 
> 
> As a single person though, I have to wait until April 14th and Black Day to celebrate...

Tobirama’s fingers tremble as he shuts down the camera before falling back against his couch. He had known that being accepted by and streaming for _Icha Icha Pleasure_ ’s site would be a boon for his hobby, but he hadn’t really taken in the full depth of what that had meant. Over $7000 in a single show...even now it doesn’t feel real.

That could be a result of the endorphins, of course. He snorts lightly and reaches between his legs to pull the toys out of his ass. Right now he’s managed to put himself into a lowkey substate - a sense of calm and serenity that he knows will stay with him for the next few hours. 

There is a sect of Buddhist monks that believe that sexual pleasure is a way to gain nirvana, he muses as he follows his standard post-session clean-up routine. He can understand where they are coming from when he feels like this. Blissful. Relaxed. Unconcerned about term papers and research dates and bills.

On the kitchen table, his phone rings and Tobirama sighs. It’s probably Hashirama in some sort of mood after Tobirama has escaped the party. Resolutely, he wipes his hands with a moist towelette and stalks over, determined not to let the big baby make him feel guilty. He had told Hashirama that he had had plans tonight! It’s not his fault that his brother had ignored or forgotten that!

Pausing as the caller ID registers, Tobirama has the intense desire to let it go to mailbox. It is unbelievably awkward to speak to one’s father so soon after calling someone else ‘Daddy’. He unlocks the phone with a thumb and sets it to speaker mode, needing both hands as he drops the toys into the sink for a rinse. The special bottle of cleaning solution is right where it should be, too; it never takes him long to properly treat the tools of his trade.

“Yo, Dad. What’s going on?”

Butsuma scoffs lightly at the impertinence, but Tobirama can hear amusement in his voice. It warms him, to know how much happier his father is even so many years after the divorce. The man he had known before had not had the energy left to project such affection.

“Tobirama, this is your father.” Tobirama’s lips twitch into a smile while he pats the vibrator dry. His old man had never really gotten used to Caller ID and the newer ways people address one another because of it. Introductions are a thing his dear father will likely always make. “Mariko and I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And Hashirama is crying on my cell phone for some reason…?”  


That brother of his should never be allowed near a phone while under the influence. It’s just unfortunate that Mito thinks it’s hilarious to watch him deal with the fallout the next day. Or several days, in one memorable case involving Uchiha Madara and a ‘prank’ love confession that had caused a minor uproar.

He glances down at the cheap plastic beads around his wrist and slips the bracelet off to wash that as well, ignoring the heat he can feel building in his cheeks. What had he been thinking, admitting to his audience that it had been a gift from someone he likes? He’s going to have to refund some people who thought they could buy the name off of him, which is annoying, but part of the rules he had agreed to when he had signed on to stream with _Icha Icha_. Burying that mess of annoyance beneath his current mood reminds him that his father was still awaiting an explanation.

“Ah. He threw a party and I had plans.” Frowning, Tobirama finishes cleaning both dildos and the bracelet as he listens to his father grumble about his eldest son. Hashirama and Butsuma had never really been able to understand one another. Personally, Tobirama theorizes that the problem is that they are too similar and can see too clearly the flaws they share.

It’s gotten better now, though. Hashirama has grown up and Butsuma has found someone to remind him what life can offer again.

"I'm passing the phone to Mariko, hold on."

Tobirama finishes washing his hands and has time to pour himself another glass of water before his mother's voice chirps at him from the speakers. "Tobi! It's late, but happy birthday! You know, your brother is crying on the other line about how you left your own party." His lips twitch up into a smile as he imagines the look on Mariko's painted face. She has always been the sort to enjoy teasing Hashirama, having long decided that her husband's eldest child is too perfect otherwise.

"Ah, tell him that I met someone and have eloped. We are going to spend the rest of our lives travelling and Hashirama will likely never see me again." Mariko's laughter flutters down the line as she relays the message to Butsuma, who will likely break the news to his distraught son.

It warms something deep inside of him to hear his father's laugh come so easily and he knows that he has Mariko to thank for it. Most young children would resent the woman their father had had an affair with, but...their family had not been much of a family, really. A vivacious woman nearly half Butsuma's age, Mariko had swept into the Senju's household and inspired the emotionally downtrodden man to pick his children over his wife and pursue his own happiness.

“Tell me about this new husband of yours, then! How dare you not invite your mother to the wedding? My greatest dream is to see my dear children making those vows. Tell me you wore a proper white dress!” The foolishness startles a laugh out of him and he decides the bracelet is dry enough to slip back onto his wrist. 

“What do you mean? My mother was there in spirit and I wore blue - it’s my best color.”

"Maaah~ My son! You are absolutely my child! This body may not have birthed you, but we are absolutely connected!" Tobirama knows he is blushing even as he tries to scold Mariko for her exuberance. Not that he means it; this banter between them has always been a part of their relationship. He had not had time to be angry or upset at his new 'mother', not when she was making such ridiculous statements so boldly.

 _"Those beautiful eyes! I absolutely bore you in spirit, To-baby!"_ How was he supposed to build resentment at a so-called homewrecker as a child, faced with that sort of mad delight? Mariko had been everything his biological mother could not be.

Even though the divorce had left Butsuma with very little...life with Mariko in it was something Tobirama cannot imagine living. Not happily, at any rate.

He shifts the phone so that he can hold it against his ear with his shoulder, cleaning up his 'stage' as they bicker. It isn't as awkward a feeling to do so with his mother on the line like this; Mariko is shameless and is a driven support to him in what he does. She is the only one of his family to have looked past the money he brought in and into his means...and then she had been proud of him.

_You're happy doing this, aren't you? My little To-baby...I'll talk to your father, of course - we do not keep secrets - but I'll explain it to him in a way he can understand. Your brothers can keep on believing whatever they tell themselves, though._

Mariko had understood why Tobirama had come to work in such an unusual field. She had gotten how important being [GoodBoi] was to him. As [GoodBoi], Tobirama can bare himself fully and be praised, be _wanted_ , admired. The physical parts of himself that he had always lacked confidence with...there were people who loved him for them. Sure, he’s embracing the fact that his condition is seen as a kink, but in many cases his viewers tell him that it was a affectation they had never before known about themselves.

It is heady and needed after years of being the odd one out based on his appearance. 

Lost in his memories and introspection, Tobirama almost missed his mother’s question. “Ah! Listen Tobirama, between you and me…” He can imagine the way her hand cups around the old landline’s receiver, hiding her lips even as her eyes shine bright with mischief. By this time, his father has probably left the room with a wave either to get ready for bed or to further calm down Hashirama on his cell phone. “How is that crush of yours holding up? You’re just like your mother, falling for an older man! Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t find love in your line of work!”

Tobirama closes his eyes and lets his head drop lightly against the wall. “Mom…”

It’s old news, it really is. Puberty had hit Tobirama around the same time as his parents were splitting up and it was really just coincidence that Madara had caught his attention. He’d been Hashirama’s strange-looking younger brother tagging along to spend time at Madara’s house to avoid the tension at home. At thirteen Tobirama was physically unimpressive, growing up but hardly out. Madara at eighteen had been like someone out of a wet dream - tall and strong and completely safe for Tobirama to focus his teenage desires on. Someone out of his league, but more accessible than the usual celebrity crush.

Mariko had caught him washing his sheets in the middle of the night and somehow she had gotten the information out of him. 

The ice in his water glass shifts, bringing him out of his memories again and reminding him that he’s still thirsty. The first lesson he had ever been taught about this sort of work is that hydration is important. He manages to excuse himself from the conversation with a minimum of crosstalk and returns to his chores after another glass of water.

Couch clean, toys washed, he checks his _Icha Icha Pleasure_ page and begins to refund the few requests that he hadn’t performed. Personally, he thinks he should just keep the money - it isn’t like he doesn’t have his Hard No list in plain sight, but rules are rules. He might be able to have an idiot tax on his own site, but he had signed an agreement and he is honorbound to adhere to it.

Speaking of his own site...GoodBoiTobi seems to have gotten a boost in traffic while he was cleaning up, as well as a slew of new users. It’s a heartening feeling. He reads down the list, recognizing a few usernames from his recent stream, then pauses. [MadMoonMan] seems to have taken him up on his invitation. 

Well. Let no one say that he’d turn his nose up at a high tipper. This sort of work is the kind that is a flash in the pan; a burst of popularity and interest that wanes as the worker ages. Oh, there’s plenty of opportunities at a place like _Icha Icha_ for aged workers, but for an independent contractor like Tobirama? No. This isn’t a lasting job at all. 

Nor does he want it to be. This is for him. His comfort, his desires, his decision. The money is nice, but not at all the driving force behind his hobby.

“Ha…”

This sort of mood always has his mind flitting from tangent to tangent. Tobirama slaps his hands against his cheeks lightly before growing serious. He has some emails to answer before he can render and archive the footage. With his internet speed, the hour-long session will take ages to upload and he wants to take a shower before bed. The video can process while he sleeps.


End file.
